I had this dream last night where I gave birth to a baby.
WHAT. THE FUCK.
If you know me, or anyone I'm friends with, or you read this blog, or you're friends with anyone who reads this blog, you will know that the last thing on Earth I would ever want to do is give birth to a baby. And yet, I'm the girl who always dreams about babies, and pregnancy, and lactating, and I don't know - baby related stuff. This makes no sense to me. Dream gods, I'm talking to you. GIVE ME SOMETHING ELSE TO DREAM ABOUT.
So in this dream. The weirdest part was that I didn't even realise I was pregnant until I was in labour. And even then, it wasn't that bad. It was kind of like having a mild stomach cramp. Or, you know, taking a large dump. Out of a different hole. My point is, woman around the world have obviously been lying through their teeth for the last 20-odd thousand years, because if my dream is anything to go by, giving birth is TOTALLY not that hard.
I had a girl. The best part about the whole dream is that I had a girl. Not because I'm secretly super-obsessed with babies and actually wish that one day I could have a little girl of my own...the best part was the best part because I had a girl, and I named her Sully.
Sully.
As if I need another reason never to have kids - this just in - I am TERRIBLE at giving names. And technically, I don't even think Sully is an actual name. Perhaps I was going for a cross between Sally and Scully. I know 'Scully' isn't an actual name either, but she was a character on X Files which is good enough for me. I know. Scully is good enough for me? I told you I was terrible at giving names!
Sometimes I wonder if I am too liberal on this blog. Do I blog about too much? The other day I had someone ask me, if my boyfriend broke up with me would I write about it? Hell yes. Not because I'm bitter and twisted and want to post hate messages all over the internet - but because I am the kind of person who can take any situation make it amusing. Nobody wants to read about some chick getting her heart broken...but a girl making testicle jokes about all the guys who've ever screwed her over? Now that's entertaining!
...
In other news, I recently became an aunty for the seventh time. WHAT? Apparently, the rest of my family are huge fans of procreation. I find this both amusing and convenient as it means that I can probably choose to never have children, because no one would notice. I don't even know if my Dad can tell the difference between all his grandchildren. Don't get me wrong, he's an amazing grandfather - but I'd be lying if I said he hasn't referred to me as 'Oscar' at least once in my life.
Oscar is the family dog.
I'm going to put this down to a bad memory and choose NOT to assume it's because I resemble a 13-year-old miniature schnauzer with skin problems and bad breath. When he mixes my older sister up with Oscar that's totally what it is. But with me, it's just bad memory.
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